


Tentative

by artsies



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-31
Updated: 2019-01-31
Packaged: 2019-10-19 21:15:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17609120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/artsies/pseuds/artsies
Summary: "… You look pretty in blue.", is all he answers with a smile, and lifts his hand to trace the lines on the trickster's forehead, but the moment he touches them, they disappear, leaving behind pale pink skin. (They are melting away, he thinks with the odd poetic wonder that sometimes makes its appearance in his head, like the snowflakes that land on your fingertip, perfect, beautiful and fragile.)





	Tentative

**Author's Note:**

> This was written in the era before the first Avengers film even came out... maybe even before the second Ironman one, my memory fails me. That being said, it can't really be seen as set in the cinematic universe anymore, but it was sort of building on its emotional premises. Back then, I envisioned Loki's character arc would do much more with his depression and softness than it did in the end, so as it stands, it's a little out of character!
> 
> I also don't think I ever posted this anywhere... But I did want to archive it, so here we are.

Tony Stark supposes that it is an odd thing to be doing in the dead of night, watching an alien read at his kitchen table. But then again, his life is anything but normal - never has been, and from the way some superheros seem to be moving in permanently, never will be. Not that this particular semi-resident of his is the loud, brash type; on the contrary, as Loki hunches over the worn paperback, he looks more like some otherworldly statue than living being, with his left holding his hair at his neck so it won't fall into his eyes, while his right thumbs the pages, softly, gently, almost like a lover's caress. He sits, silent and lonely, sharp and cold, just as he has been since that crazy make-up scene a few weeks earlier. 

To be honest, he is still desperately trying to wrap his head around the whole surreal ordeal; Thor wounded by those droids, Loki appearing behind and going berserk - he is not sure what happened then, because there was a new wave of mechanical menaces - but by the time he turned around, there was crying and shouting. To be equal, only a bargain chip. He would have done it for them, for the family that choose him. But then they cast him out. (Why, why, why?!)

_"Fool!" Thor had yelled, (no, he had thundered) and everything seemed to have went completely still, the air frozen, one hand clutching his bleeding side. "We grew up together, bled together, cried together. I grieved for you when I thought you dead! So what of us not being the children of the same parents? That does not change our pasts, ourselves. You are still who you have always been; my amazing, brilliant little brother, my companion and friend, one who I cannot do without. How you could even think I do not see you this way is surely my fault, for which I must atone. But believe me Loki, you are, and have always been more then just my equal. You never needed to prove it. I'm sorry if you thought you did - you are my little brother, and I adore you for who you are and always will."_

He remembers clearly the sight of those green eyes, filled with tears, as he flings himself into his brother's arms, while at the same time Thor pulls him in with such force, it would have surely killed any normal man, and it does seem to cause a minor quake in their area. (Aliens.) And he remembers the sight of his hands clutching, clinging desperately to the cape.

"You are perfect just as you are, Loki." 

And though Loki remains a trembling, sobbing mess long after, and they all know he is just a little too broken for this to be enough, it's a step; and at least Thor can convince (Tony is not quite sure how he has managed to pull that off) Fury that his little brother will cease to be a villain. He is placed in the unofficial Avengers HQ - Tony Stark's Malibu villa. (Of course, this entails Thor and his girlfriend (and her research) moving in, which does give Tony a bit of a headache: but it's not like his home hasn't gradually been becoming a superhero hideout anyway.)

…

(Has he mentioned that he has superhero tenants who don't pay rent at all?) 

Tony shifts his weight, still trying to rub off the oil from his hands with his rag.

"I take it that book is quite good.", he tries, moving suddenly for the sink. Loki looks up with a polite smile; he must have known he's been standing here.

"… it is interesting enough, thank you, Mr. Stark. Are you still trying to solve the oven problem?"

He gives the alien at his kitchen table a wink.

"Heh, no. I got bigger things going on."

"Much to my dismay, may I add. I cannot take care of these matters myself, sir, and I fear they may lead to further, more dangerous problems, then just the oven opening and closing on its own.", JARVIS pipes in suddenly, in what is a rather dismayed tone, and causes Loki to jump in what Tony would normally describe as cute, but this is Loki we are talking about, someone who has been worshiped as a god by the Norse (which makes him how old exactly…?) and who could most probably destroy half of Earth with a snap of his fingers if he felt like it. Or rather, if Thor was threatened. Which is just a tad bit too weird thought on it's own, Thor being a damsel in distress. So no, not cute. Cannot be cute. 

"Daddy'll get around to it, don't worry. He just has some other important things to do.", he says, washing the grime off his hands.

"Yes, like tinkering on that car…"

His home operating system is jealous of his car. He needs a drink, and he needs it now. Loki looks like he knows what he is thinking (or it's just that plain on his face), because he hides his smile behind the back of his beautiful, slender hand, green eyes alit with mirth. It makes Tony's heart flutter somehow.

Good god, these aliens. They are going to be the death of him.

"Want some brandy?", he asks, a bit more gruffly than intended, as he puts down two glasses on the table, and before his almighty depressed alien guest can even inhale for an answer, he pours him a generous amount. "It's good brandy, I promise you."

\- - -

An hour or so passes and they are nearing drunkenness. Both of them are careful drinkers, but one glass pulls another, one story another (ranging from Thor in a dress to the theoretical Enhanced Bifrost, which can manipulate space, time and a whole load of other things), and they are at the edge of tipsy going drunk. They both decide it's best if they do not take that dive tonight. (Ironman thinks it's also best for the world - it has now become clear to him that with their combined talent at pissing people off and being a total bother to all, they could seriously cause a mini-Ragnarok when drunk. Or, who knows, maybe a full one.) And so Tony moves to put away the bottle of brandy, but he's still watching those green eyes as the asgardian finishes his sentence, and he accidentally grabs Loki's hand instead.

It's because of this that he sees the small flutter of his lashes, the tiny intake of breath - he would have missed it if he hadn't been already hounding, trying to figure out the face behind the mask for the last hour (oh, who is he kidding? The last two weeks!) or so. It's then that he realizes just how isolated Loki is; hovering in a world that only seems to touch him when necessary.

Tony decides not to take away his hand. He watches as Loki turns his head, something like a blush on his cheeks; he mutters something, and seems to move as though to pull out his hand from under his, except he can't seem to - or he is just not that willing to break contact. 

Hunger for touch. Tony knows what that means with every fiber of his being. He knows what it's like when you seem to levitate in the world; when your father doesn't love you, when he does not touch you; when those two people are gone and all you have are people who patronize, people who deceive, and people who stay far away, and there you are, locked into a ball of something like ice; it creeps under your skin and threatens to kill you. Unless you demand touch, unless you force it. Unless you take all the girls who are willing to your bed for one night only, to feel that skin on skin, the touch - the kiss. (But it's never quite what he is looking for.)

He draws a soothing line with his thumb on Loki's wrist. The other's head snaps back up, and Tony finds himself facing two blood red eyes.

"Stop it.", is all the broken little alien on his kitchen chair whispers. It's somewhere between a threat, a plea and a warning.

He looks at the blue skin, the markings running on it, feels some sort of cold beneath his hand, growing ever so stronger - he supposes it could hurt him - but he does not see anything he should be afraid of even remotely. He is fascinated, mesmerized.

"… You look pretty in blue.", is all he answers with a smile, and lifts his hand to trace the lines on the trickster's forehead, but the moment he touches them, they disappear, leaving behind pale pink skin. (They are melting away, he thinks with the odd poetic wonder that sometimes makes its appearance in his head, like the snowflakes that land on your fingertip, perfect, beautiful and fragile.)

Loki doesn't seem to quite know what to do anymore, biting his lip and switching to and fro from trying to read Tony's expression to casting down his gaze every two seconds.

He knows this should be the right time to pull away, to take the brandy and put it on the shelf, to say good night and go to bed alone. But Loki is open; he doesn't quite believe it, he doesn't quite know how he's done it, but there he is, small and afraid, and Tony just doesn't want to be cruel like that. Not to him. Not to one with such beautiful tears.

He wipes them with his thumb.

"I'm sorry. I didn't want to make you cry. . . You've done more then enough of that lately. They don't pay you enough to overtime so much, you know."

And this, at least, earns him a small smile.

"Goodnight, pretty little alien.", Tony Stark says, and lifts the hand he has been holding to his mouth, placing a kiss. "Sleep well."

\- - -

The next week or so passes as though they had never drank a drop of brandy that night, as though Tony Stark hadn't stayed up the rest of said night thinking about him, and as though he hasn't been thinking about him since then; Loki is still quiet and still and broken. They don't talk in ways that are not polite, they don't look and they don't touch. Thor tries to fix up the tears and holes; but he wants to hammer nails in, not sew pieces together. Tony can see that Loki appreciates that, he can see the love behind his eyes, but he can see that the holes remain.

He realizes one morning as the Avengers sit down for breakfast, when it's like Loki is only sitting next to Thor, not between Steve and Thor, (and the oven door starts to open and close on its own again, making him jump while the two _warriors_ just blink), just how much he wants to touch Loki. There is nothing sexual in this want, and it's odd, because Tony has never quite felt this need before; even when he and Pepper had been going out, there was the want, the desire to own behind each touch, even the softest caress.

This is completely different, and he doesn't understand.

That night, he finds Loki reading on the couch when he comes back up from his work. He resists the urge to just run over there, and stops a few steps away instead.

"What exactly are you reading in the dead of night? Pride and prejudice?"

"… Biological engineering. It's cute.", Loki says as he looks up with a small - not polite, but sort of sarcastic - smile.

It makes Tony's heart jump.

"Well, sorry to disappoint you, my dear God of Mischief, but this is all we sad little Midgard men can do at the moment. You are welcome to teach us a bit of your sorcery though.", he says as he drops himself onto to couch, shoulders feeling like they are made out of… iron.

"Your science and our magic are one and the same.", Loki replies in a small voice, his hand absentmindedly smoothing a page over and over.

"Then is it with science that you make doppelgangers of yourself? I find that hard to understand, and I created a whole new element just to keep me alive."

"It certainly needs talent, but so does your science need genius. I'm certain there aren't many Midgard men who could have achieved what you did.", his little alien says solemnly, but his green eyes shift from his face to his chest, where the blue light shines trough his tank top.

"I was certainly motivated."

"It's an ill concept of humanity that great things do not need selfish motivation. All great things are in need of it; fame, riches, leisure, lack of effort. These are what bring your breakthroughs. These are what bring breakthroughs to all races. No exceptions."

"That's certainly pessimistic."

"It's only science. Not life."

He is still staring at the core in Tony's chest, though it's absent-minded now. Silence settles between them, soft and almost tangible - it's like a spider's web - until Loki suddenly reaches out, fingers brushing against the light; but he pulls back just as suddenly, blushing (really, honestly), and stuttering a sorry. Without much conscious thought, Tony catches that long, slender hand before it disappears completely from his territory, and takes it back, pushing it firmly against the core.

"… No, it's only fair. You showed me yours, I show you mine, right?", he tries to laugh, but it comes out sort of broken; he wants to take it back, but he can't. Then he thinks about it, and pulls off his top.

Loki stares into his eyes for a long minute before he looks back down. His fingers trace the design, touch cold against his chest, like the hands of someone who has bad circulation, except it's not like that at all; Ironman absentmindedly wonders why he keeps up the appearance of pink skin, if he is scared of what others would say, or if he is just scared of his own reflection, or both.

Their quiet moments are ruined by Thor and Jane coming home from a party. They flee in different directions.


End file.
